


memories sowed in our hearts

by orphan_account



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Atmospheric, Campfires, Cats, Crushes, Friendship, Gen, Getting Together, Light Reflection, M/M, Slice of Life, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:11:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: And one day not too far away, they’ll make it out of here – build themselves a future in the big city, where there are concrete jungles and bright lights drown the twinkling of distant stars. And they’ll be happy then. But maybe he’s old enough now to admit that he’s sort of alright with this, too.
Relationships: Abigail & Sam & Sebastian (Stardew Valley), Sam/Sebastian (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43
Collections: Minigame: Round 1





	memories sowed in our hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catsinouterspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsinouterspace/gifts).



A harvest moon sits low in the clear sky, big and bright. Dusk has draped itself across Pelican Town; the horizon is coloured burnt rust where it disappears into the ocean beyond the beach. Lonely shadows of scattered clouds float above, streaks of grey on soft mauve.

Sebastian breathes in deeply. The air smells of pine and dry earth; faint notes of cinnamon and nutmeg waft through an open window to tickle his nose - his mom is making pumpkin soup. Sebastian’s stomach growls, but that’s alright. He’ll have the leftovers in the morning.

Because tonight is special. It’s a campfire night, which means silly songs and roasted marshmallows; sharing body heat and laughter with Sam and Abby as they talk about nothing and everything all at once, until the moon has climbed higher than the sun. They might fall asleep, then, limbs tangled beneath thick blankets, and wake long after the rooster’s first crow.

The ghost of a smile flickers across Sebastian’s lips. High up, past the bare branches of tall trees, stars have already begun to twinkle. A breeze stirs the air, gentle but sharp with the bitter cold of autumn. Sebastian shivers, and draws his jacket tight over his chest.

He opens the garage, trailing his fingers across the quilted leather of his bike as he heads towards the back. It’s a mess – always has been, but Sebastian knows where to look. He finds what he wants propped behind empty cans of engine oil and dusty cardboard boxes, stuffed with dated equipment Demetrius can’t bear to discard.

It’s a bundle of twigs, heftier than he remembers, scavenged months ago from his mom’s workshop. Sebastian grimaces when the rough wood pricks his palms. He should find his gloves before the next fortnight, he thinks, sliding the door shut firmly behind him. Besides, the days will only grow colder.

Maru is in the yard outside her room, tinkering with a telescope; she waves, and Sebastian pauses to nod. Then, anticipation bubbling bright and sweet inside his chest, he hurries down the overgrown trail that leads to the abandoned farm.

It’s their place, – his and Sam’s and Abby’s – just as much as any dappled riverside grove or half-hidden path that wanders in winding circles through Cindersnap’s shaded thickets can be. Sebastian still remembers the old farmer; gruff with calloused hands and booming laughter that could warm the coldest of nights.

Because that’s the thing about small towns, see – everything is everyone’s and everyone is everyone’s, for better or for worse.

Sebastian thinks of Abby pulling him along to chase frogs in a thunderstorm; of quiet conversations with Sam at the water’s edge, stolen under dusk’s dwindling light. Of them both, there when he needs them most. For better, certainly.

And one day not too far away, they’ll make it out of here – build themselves a future in the big city, where there are concrete jungles and bright lights drown the twinkling of distant stars. And they’ll be happy then. But maybe he’s old enough now to admit that he’s sort of alright with this, too.

Sebastian’s strides lengthen as he rounds the last bend in the trail. Songbirds, tucked into the twined branches of barren blackberry bushes, warble softly. Navy and mottled shades of deep azure have begun to erase pastel from the darkening evening sky.

The northern entrance looks out at every corner of the farm – battered scarecrows, still standing guard over the small pond where rice once grew; evergreen saplings, heedless of season as they sprout beneath jagged cliffs along the western border. Weeds sprawl themselves across rocky soil, blooming in pale pink and muted lilac. 

But Sebastian has eyes only for Sam.

He’s sitting beside a dim campfire on the shores of the south lake. Its flames cast warm orange shadows, surrounding Sam’s broad-shouldered silhouette with a soft glow. His back is turned as he strums his guitar – a meaningless melody that shouldn’t tug at Sebastian’s heartstrings just so.

Sebastian swallows. His grip around the bundle of twigs tightens, then loosens, and his pace quickens in time to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Brittle leaves crunch under the soles of his boots as he rushes forward; a shy smile pulls at the corners of his mouth unbidden. Sam twists about, fingers stilling. He’s beaming wide and impossibly bright when he gives a little wave.

“Hey, Sebastian!” he calls. And Sebastian has to bite his lips to keep them from mirroring Sam – from erupting into a telltale toothy grin. But there’s nothing he can do to hide the twinkle in his eyes.

“Hey yourself,” Sebastian murmurs as he joins Sam at the fireside. Sam chuckles even though it wasn’t really funny, and cards a hand through wind-mussed hair. He leans back, stretching out long legs. It makes Sebastian’s chest squeeze, so he looks at the campfire instead.

He tosses in a few more twigs; the fire crackles with approval, golden flames leaping high to dance in the cold night air. Sebastian licks his lips. He glances at Sam, searching for words to fill the silence even though it doesn’t need to be filled. Except Sam’s already staring, big eyes too wide – bluer than the sea, and just as easy to drown in.

They both clear their throats at the same time.

“Uh,” Sebastian says, as Sam rubs the nape of his neck in that way he does when feeling sheepish. Sam’s cheeks are dusted pink; perhaps it could be blamed on night’s chill – Sebastian almost hopes so, for his own face has started to warm. He ducks his chin into the oversized hood of his jacket, and settles down beside Sam.

He sits cross-legged and their knees brush, but neither of them shifts. Sam fiddles with his guitar, strumming haphazard chords scattered with melodies from their newest song. Sebastian hums, and leans closer until their shoulders brush, too.

Sam smells sweet, like wildflowers and musk; his muscles are lean and firm. Heat seems to spread from where their bodies touch, flowing through Sebastian’s veins in a surge of liquid electricity. He shouldn’t feel so hot on such a cold night.

Before them, pale moonlight trickles down in dappled rays. It casts muted reflections across the lake, broken by bubbling ripples. Fish are shadows that dart beneath the water’s surface and above, fireflies shimmer in and out of existence.

He could hold Sam’s hand, Sebastian thinks, and knows Sam wouldn’t mind it one bit. Sam would squeeze back, maybe lean in for a kiss – maybe, they could stop pretending to be friends with long-blurred boundaries. But time itself seems to blur in moments like this, promising chances that will never end. It’s peaceful, besides, and Sebastian is not that brave.

So he taps an unsteady rhythm on the ripped denim of his jeans with nervous fingers, instead. His heartbeat flutters against his ribcage, a trapped butterfly; he needs a joint. Sebastian lights one, jittery, and takes a deep drag. Wavering wisps of smoke rise up to disappear, swallowed by the night sky.

Sebastian studies Sam from the corner of his eye. He wonders if someday – not too soon, but not too far away – they might sit around a campfire just like this, except closer. If Sam will let Sebastian shotgun him; how it will feel when their mouths meet and their breaths mingle, and they’re dizzy and high and hot all at once.

Sam catches Sebastian looking, and smiles. Sebastian’s cheeks burn. But this time, he smiles back.

A dried bush rustles where the campfire’s glow begins to fade, shedding glossy red leaves that blaze like embers as they catch the firelight. A smudged shape flits about in the darkness – it’s a cat; a tiny little thing that freezes, tail mid-swish, upon sensing Sebastian’s gaze. Sebastian blinks slowly, carefully, and the cat blinks back.

It has gleaming round eyes, mirrors of the pale yellow moon above the horizon’s edge. The cat’s coat seems soft, ash-grey fur long and tangled, peppered with flecks of dirt. It looks inviting as well as waiting to be invited, so Sebastian stretches his hand in greeting, low across the frigid ground. 

“Here, kitty,” he calls, blushing when Sam watches him with unabashed interest. The cat peers at Sebastian, too, head cocked and ears swiveled. A dusky moth lands on its nose before fluttering away; the cat’s tail twitches. It hisses, pink tongue flicking out in distaste, and pins Sebastian with narrowed eyes. _How dare you distract me from that vile creature_ , it appears to accuse.

Sebastian has no answer for the cat’s question. He sighs and shrugs, though the cat can’t understand him. Cats are fickle, anyway; perhaps that’s why this one stalks forward only after he withdraws his hand. It pads daintily, head held high as if it knows just how pretty it is – what a silly cat.

Laughter bubbles past Sebastian’s lips unbidden. At his side, Sam grins. “You should laugh more,” he whispers. “I like it.”

And oh, when did Sam get so close? Close enough that his breath tickles the nape of Sebastian’s’ neck in a hot, giddy rush? Sebastian splutters, face aflame. _I like you too,_ he tries not to say.

It’s the cat that saves him, demanding attention as it rubs its lithe body against Sebastian’s thigh. He strokes it gently, trailing a firm hand over its supple back. The cat arches into his touch; Sebastian buries fingers into downy fur. It’s soft, so impossibly soft and warm, as it climbs onto Sebastian’s lap. The cat meows. _I own you_ , Sebastian hears.

Sam sidles closer still. Their thighs press, and Sam’s hair brushes Sebastian’s cheek. He smells faint traces of his shampoo, cinnamon-orange, comforting. Sam drapes an arm around Sebastian’s shoulders as he leans in to pet the cat; it could be natural, if blushes weren’t blooming in rose across both their cheeks.

Instead, it’s a boundary that Sam is trying on for size and Sebastian’s heart leaps into his throat like it wants to escape his lips to spill the very last of his secrets. His palms are sweaty when their fingers intertwine, skin on skin amidst skin on fur. The cat purrs long and loud with two tangled hands stilled against its spine.

Sebastian’s heartbeat stumbles in time to the rhythm of the cat’s stuttered purr. Sam’s hand is large and warm; his fingers slender but calloused. Sebastian wants to hold them tight, never let go. He gives a small squeeze, lungs gasping for breath that isn’t his to claim. Then, he bites his lip and glances at Sam.

Sam’s smile is shy as he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear even though it wasn’t out of place. Sebastian watches him, gaze flitting across Sam’s face – those gorgeous eyes, high cheekbones, plump lips. He wonders what they taste like – sugary maple bars, maybe, or Joja cola, bittersweet.

Sebastian’s body inches forward before he can stop himself. Sam’s eyes widen, arresting pools of electric blue. He licks his lips, then tilts his head to meet Sebastian halfway.

They don’t make it, not this time –

The cat startles, sinking pinprick claws into Sebastian’s thigh, sharp enough to scratch despite his jeans. Sebastian yelps; when he looks down, the cat is gone – a bundle of sleek stealth, melted into the shadows from where it emerged. It has stolen the moment along with itself, a thief true to its name.

But Sebastian giggles, and soon, Sam’s shoulders are shaking with laughter too. It’s the sort that keeps on pouring, as giddy and senseless as it is uncontainable. Sebastian doesn’t remember the last time he laughed so hard; his cheeks hurt, and tears glisten at the corners of his eyes.

Sam is still holding his hand, though, rubbing gentle circles across his skin, so things are alright. Better than alright.

They both glance up as hurried footsteps echo from the direction of Cindersnap, ringing crystal clear through the quiet night. It’s Abby, who comes into full view in a mess of violet curls and clothes covered with leaves and tiny twigs. A big knapsack is slung over her shoulder; she was foraging.

“Sorry I’m late!” she calls, and breaks into a jog to join them at the fireside. Her eyes sparkle bright. “I found a lot of great stuff, got a bit carried away!”

Sebastian shares a tender smile with Sam, then turns to face her. “You didn’t miss much,” he says.

“Oh, yeah?” Abby asks in return, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as she dumps the knapsack on the ground. She raises a brow, and drags her gaze pointedly between him and Sam.

 _Oh_ , Sebastian realizes – they’re _still_ holding hands. A wave of warmth swells inside his chest, rushing to colour his cheeks pink. Sam’s face is flushed too; the tips of his ears burn crimson.

When Abby laughs, her voice tinkles like wind chimes. “About time,” she teases, “it's been obvious for ages.” But her tone is sweet and there are dimples in her cheeks even as she rolls her eyes.

“Lovebirds,” she says, plopping down at Sebastian’s side. Neither of them denies it.

A comfortable silence settles around the campfire as Abby empties her knapsack. The quiet is filled by crackling flames and singing night-bugs, overlapping the rhythms of their steady breaths. Warmth seeps into Sebastian’s veins, filling empty spaces that Sam and Abby allow him to forget. Sam’s hand is warm on top of his; Abby’s form warm against his side. The flames burn hot and hopeful, and there is enough firewood to last the night.


End file.
